To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [168]
‘M. de Fleury? He’s within bowshot. The archers are covering him. No one’s worried. Look at Dmitri. He’s giggling.’
‘I know,’ Robin said. ‘I know it’s a very good trick. But what will happen when the Unicorn comes? What will the Pruss Maiden do?’
‘Ask yourself,’ Kathi said. ‘You know M. de Fleury, or you ought to. He won’t kill my brother. Enjoy it.’
It was the way she sometimes addressed her young cousins. She shut her lips, and Robin looked at her in surprise. Then he said, ‘Of course it’s going to be all right,’ and settled his young arms on the rail close to hers.
Chapter 23
THE UNICORN TOOK three days to arrive, the delay being purely strategic.
On its very first landfall, near the island of Papey, the man Mogens got news of the Lübecker. The Pruss Maiden had left Bergen early, and was already inside the Westmann Isles’ harbour. An unknown ship had since passed the same way. As to stockfish, Mogens added, there was hardly any to be had in this fjord, but he was arranging to barter for what there was. A pair of shoes for three fish; fifteen fish for a firkin of honey. They bought, and moved on.
The second ship must be de Fleury’s. Having suffered the tantrums of Sersanders all the way from the Faroes, Martin would willingly have kept the news from him; as it was, it precipitated another outburst of temper which made Martin twitch. He wished the young lord and his sister to perdition.
The Vatachino, in his view, had had no need to resort to a syndicate. His invisible chiefs had insisted. The ship was Adorne’s, and so was that part of the risk. His sea captain Svartecop was good. It made sense to include Cologne merchants, since that prince-bishopric had renounced its Hanse partners. He understood all of that. But Adorne had been unable to come, and Martin was saddled with this young Flemish aristocrat who couldn’t keep his own sister in check. And de Fleury had found a new ship and, enticing the girl, had attempted to handicap Martin.
Well, de Fleury could try. But now the head of the Banco di Niccolò faced a far greater threat in the Pruss Maiden. The Lübecker was a big ship: at least as big as the Unicorn. And it had the right to sink the Unicorn and the Svipa whenever it pleased.
It seemed to Martin that there was no immediate call to arrive at the Westmanns. He would have to go there eventually, and put his boats down, and his cod-lines, and fish. Half his cargo was salt. It would be shameful not to utilise that, or his barrels. He would, of course, invite the wrath of the virtuous Maiden; but bribes might work, and a certain low cunning. Also, the more Martin delayed, the greater the chance that the Maiden would clash with the Svipa. The smaller vessel could never prevail, but de Fleury might damage the other. A crippled Maiden might not relish more fighting. And de Fleury wrecked, sunk or captive would be a truly acceptable bonus.
The Unicorn lingered, therefore, off the uncomfortable surf of the coast. It didn’t suit Adorne’s nephew, of course. But as Martin did not fail to point out, it was Anselm’s fault that the girl had come anyway, and if the Svipa fell to the Maiden, she would be treated well as a valuable hostage. Whereas with three ships in battle, who could control where the missiles would fall?
Privately, he was amazed at Sersanders’s naïveté. The child was known as a pert little madam. If de Fleury hadn’t got to her first, presumably all the crew had, from the mariners downwards. A round of shot would be the kindest solution.
They got even less stockfish at Horn, and plunged along the black and grey shores to Dyrhólaey, a nightmarish outcrop of rock with two holes in it. The boat going ashore half capsized in the thundering surf, and all they got was a Gothic halibut, a bundle of saithe and some feathers. He paid them in cloth, and was glad to explain that he had no packets of iron, or timber, or flour. Even so, had the sea been less rough, he had a notion that the Icelanders would have rowed out and boarded him. Rowing back, they had to tow